


Sugar and...

by TrueMyth



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Kissing, Bondage, Episode: s02e03 Cheatty Cheatty Bang Bang, F/M, Mentions of Kendall Casablancas/Logan Echolls, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Season/Series 02, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueMyth/pseuds/TrueMyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What might have happened if Beaver spoke to his dad a few hours earlier. Oh, yeah, and if the show was aired on premium cable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and...

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry into the Loveathons Bondage challenge (on LiveJournal). X-posted to veronicamarsfic. It was almost titled “The Chains of Love” so count yourselves lucky. Beta’d by the radical txtequilanights and the magnificent mutinousmuse.

Kendall Casablancas was having a rotten day. Her carefully planned life was being shot to hell. It had started with Little Dick leering at her over the table as he ate the last of the strawberry yogurt she’d saved for _her_ breakfast, continued when she was bumped from her early morning Shiatsu in favor of that bitch, Nancy Crawford, and was culminating in a frantic text message from her husband.

K, I NEED YOU AT THE OFFICE NOW. CODE RED.

Could the man do nothing without her? It was bad enough she had to carry out his clandestine meetings. Now he was impinging on her scheduled day of pampering and extramarital sex.

With a sigh worthy of any great martyr, Kendall flipped through her caller history to the cleverly disguised private number of ‘Lauren E.’

He answered on the first ring.

“Bad news, Logan. I’m going to have to be a bit late for our play date. Something came up with Dick.”

“Well, I guess that explains why you don’t need me just now.” His voice dripped with such sarcasm, Kendall was surprised the electronics of their phones were still functional.

“Ha, ha,” she sang into the receiver as she pulled her Jag into the parking garage of Casablancas Enterprises. “Just make sure you use the time to think of something fun to spice things up a little. You know I’ll make the wait worth while.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he signed off.

That boy was so lucky he was a good lay.

**}ooo{**

Logan switched his cell direct to voice mail and tossed it in a chair across the room with a flip of the wrist before falling backwards onto his bed. For a minute he watched the patterns of morning light on his bedroom ceiling. But that was really no fun without a girl bouncing up and down on top of him. He flipped on the television and let the network news play in the background. He cracked open his math book and slammed it shut just as quickly. He managed to entertain himself for about half an hour after he found his copy of Dick senior’s REIT prospective. The guy would have been flattered by the endowments Logan’s busy pen had added to his “portfolio.” Less so, perhaps, by who was now enjoying them or the sharp little horns, but that is what happens when you let your sons and wife do your marketing. You tend to come off like the jackass you really are. Finally the pamphlet joined his phone and he began to pace the room.

“Spice things up,” he muttered as he crossed to his closet. Kendall should be here soon and he didn’t want to disappoint. He dug deep into his walk-in and emerged with a dusty cardboard box labeled ‘FUN,’ which he dropped on his bed with a sigh. Logan didn’t typically go in for props, yet he’d managed to amass quite a collection over the past several years.

He shoved the riding crop out of the way. Lilly had given him that during their first month together, before she’d learned – well, it had only been used the once. Feather ticklers sighed against his fingers and glass bottles of aromatic oils clinked together as he rummaged through the box. His hands closed on the last gift Lilly had ever given him. It had been three weeks before her death at his private birthday party. His mouth stretched into a half grin, half grimace as he pulled out a pair of matching handcuffs, lined with red satin. Two years in darkness, yet they still gleamed in the light of day. Logan searched the bottom of the box with his other hand and found the matching set of keys. He pulled them out by their long red tassel key chain, letting the thin, silken threads slide though his fingers. His throat contracted to form a horse chuckle which never made it past his lips.

He shrugged his shoulders, willing his sudden tension to roll from his back as he hung his head over the small box.

And then the decision was made. The cuffs and keys landed on the bedspread. The box was returned to the closet. As he slid the mirrored door shut, he flashed himself a broad grin and returned to his staging area. His clothes fell from his body in a series of long practiced moves and he left them wherever they fell. He looked at the clock and was beginning to wonder where Kendall had gotten to when he heard the doorbell ring.

It was their signal, to make sure the host had gotten rid of the help. They didn’t bother with meeting each other at the door anymore. What was the point? She’d let herself in and come straight to the bedroom. They’d fuck like bunnies, cut into each other with their words, fuck some more, and then arrange the next play date: she planning around her husband, he around his calculus tests.

Logan pulled back the covers and slid between his sheets. The keys found a home next to the condoms on his nightstand. He slapped one cuff onto each wrist and was about to click them home on his bed posts when he realized the television was still playing across the room.

“ _…just in, we have just received word that the SEC has despa-._ ”

*CLICK*

Logan dropped the remote over the side of the bed and secured himself to the bed just as he heard the sound of hurried footsteps climbing the stairs.

He settled back onto his pillows and waited for the fun to start.

**}ooo{**

Veronica Mars slowed her head-on rush, as she reached the second floor landing. When she’d learned both Logan and Beav- _Cassidy_ had skipped school, she’d been worried. When she could only reach Logan’s voice mail, she’d been irritated. But the drive from school had served to set her emotions into a spin-cycle. She now felt so many emotions at once it was as if she was at the center of a hurricane with sounds and colors whipping past so quickly she could scarcely identify one before it was replaced by a half-dozen more. This was a mixed blessing because a few of them had a distinctly green tinge. So she had let the storm carry her across the driveway, past his yellow monstrosity, and through the back door, up the stairs. Then that quiet rustle from beyond Logan’s double doors had broken through her maelstrom and rooted her feet firmly to the shag carpet.

_God. What if he was -. With her -. God._

The rushing winds of her turbulent emotions formed a vacuum and, for a second, Veronica couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but see Logan and Kendall in her mind’s eye.

And now she hated him a little bit. Hated her, too. Veronica plucked the red thread of hatred from the air around her and wrapped it around her heart. She felt the high winds fall away as she moved calmly towards the bedroom door and twisted its handle. She allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, and then she walked forward, into the room, her eyes open and her head held high.

**}ooo{**

Logan felt an odd measure of tranquility fall over him as he watch his bedroom door open, not for a statuesque brunette, but for the petite blonde he’d never thought to see in his bedroom again. He watched her eyes widen and allowed his arms hang from the cuffs with a relaxed swing. He watched her color, already high, deepen to a pale rose as it climbed the smooth curves of her cheeks and he let his head fall back to rest more comfortably among his soft pillows. He watched the way she hesitated at the threshold for a heartbeat before walking at a brisk clip to the foot of his bed and he felt his pulse slow to the steady rhythm of a marathon runner. He grinned down the length of his exposed chest, liking the way the expression caused her jaw to clench.

“Welcome back, Mars. Can I get you a drink?” He moved forward slightly and then fell back with dejection. “Oh. Wait.” He rattled the chains of the cuffs and smirked as her nostrils flared. “I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

Veronica’s hand began to play absently with the covers as her gaze swept the room. She was quick to look away from his scattered clothing, particularly the boxers hanging from his floor lamp. She also seemed to be avoiding his bound hands and expanse of his chest. Her right hand grabbed a fist full of comforter as she settled for glaring directly at his face.

“Is your girlfriend here? Or have you taken to giving your maids cheap thrills?” The glittering edge of her disapproval may have cut him if it didn’t amuse him so much.

“Well now, Mrs. Navarro _is_ a kinky one…,” Logan began. When Veronica only raised a fine brow while her hand tightened on his blanket, he amended, “Girlfriend? Girlfriend, uh, you have to be a little more specific.”

“Let me clarify, the one's whose husband-” and here he felt his pulse jump as he realized how much she knew, “-is gonna break you in half when he finds out that his son's old Cub Scout camporee buddy is secretly plowing his wife?” On her final word she gave a particularly sharp tug to the blanket and it slipped to reveal another inch of his hip. She didn’t realize what she was doing, as her eyes remained locked on his, and he wondered how naked he would be before she finally caught on. He held her gaze and challenged her to look away.

“Ah, that one is less a girlfriend and more a…,” he risked letting his gaze drop as he surveyed her body – _Damn those low ridding jeans_ – before continuing “...playmate, kind of.”

Funny, but that term seemed to please her less than her romantic twaddle, at least if the three sharp twists she delivered to his bed sheets were any indication. One more twist, as near as he could tell, and she’d get to meet his other playmate. He was disappointed when she pushed away from the bed and began to pace with loosely controlled fury.

“I hope you're scared on the inside, Logan. What if I had been Mr. Casablancas? What would you have done then, huh? Just laying there waiting for God-knows with your sheets-?”

She blinked, her eyes now riveted to the line his dark comforter cut across the pale skin of his lower hips.

Logan chuckled, “Gee, V, I suppose I would have had some 'splaining to do.”

His amused tone snapped her out of her daze and she marched up to the side of his bed so that he had to twist his neck to see her face.

“You really don’t care, do you? What a cliché! Poor little rich boy with a death wish. And I used to think that it was bad luck that landed you in danger, but no, now I see you actually enjoy it, don't you, Logan?”

Every brittle word hit him like a sudden paper cut. Small wounds making him flinch, making him bleed, just a little at a time, as she glared with disgust at his wrists.

He tried to hold back the pain and so the anger seeped around the dam of his mind instead, flavoring his words, “Well, then I guess I should feel grateful for having such a _devoted_ ex-girlfriend looking after me.” He rattled his chains. “My very own guardian angel, here to save me from my wicked self.”

“Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I came here is so I won't have to feel responsible.” She was moving back towards the door now as if it had all been said between them and he was left to watch himself in his mirror, left chained to his bed. 

Alone.

“Now what would you have to feel responsible for, Veronica?”

She spun in the middle of the room and faced him again.

“For taking pictures of you and Kendall playing house.” He smirked at that. How could he not? “Don't take it the wrong way, Logan, it was a job, nothing more.” And now she was truly leaving, all wild poise and offended dignity, and the lie of it was too much for him.

“Right, and so you storm out in a burst of professionalism.”

He watched as a shudder passed through her body and she closed the door to the hall before returning to his side.

“Keys are on the side table. You should let me loose. You know, if you can bring yourself to touch me. If you can trust yourself around me.” He felt his grin slide off his face as Veronica placed one knee on the bed and leaned over him. His blanket shifted again, but this time he wasn’t as keen to find himself bared to the world, and he moved beneath, trying to settle it higher on his hips as he held Veronica’s oddly predatory gaze.

“Is this really what it’s come to for you, Logan?” Her eyes flickered up the length of one tan arm and back again. “I may not have the same _experience_ as you, but even I know it’s a little sad when you need props to spice up your love life.” 

She looked so smug, he felt a little bit sick. And yet he had to laugh at her naiveté. In the end, he made gargling noise as he lifted his head from the pillow.

“I can handle the spice department, thank you, very much. It’s too bad we can’t say the same for you.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but inhaled her sent instead as she seethed above him. His fists clenched at thin air on either side of him as the scents of yesterday washed over him. Melon and cucumber from her hair. Lavender rising up from the heat of her skin. From memory, he added the raspberry taste of her lips and he tried not to groan as his mouth watered. Logan searched for the thread of conversation with desperation. He let his head drop again and he fell into the familiar territory of trashing Duncan’s prowess. “What spice would you call him? Vanilla? But I guess, if that’s all you can stomach-.”

His diatribe was cut off by the pressure of her mouth on his.

Veronica Mars was kissing him.

Her hands dug into his shoulders, her fingers filling the gaps between muscles and reaching deeper. There would be red marks when she let go. Bruises if this continued much longer. Her fingers began to curl in and he felt the pressure of her nails, small semi-circles of pain. They might mark him too, but he didn’t care.

Veronica Mars was kissing him.

Her hair was so long now; it tumbled down her neck and brushed his collar bone with a light caress like drifting moonbeams. It swayed, bright gold in the morning light, in the corner of his vision before he let his eyelids drift closed. It swept across his Adam’s apple and tickled, but he didn’t care.

Veronica Mars was kissing him.

Her body settled along his length, heavier than one might think, for she was all lithe, toned muscle under her clothes, but he didn’t care. His arms strained against the bedposts, automatically moving to crush her to him only to be held back, but he didn’t care. The blanket had finally slipped to his thighs and there was now nothing separating him and Veronica’s jean-clad thigh, but he didn’t care.

Veronica Mars was kissing him with all her hate and rage and fervor. And this he cared about very much.

It was not a kiss of dominance or submission. It was neither familiar nor strange. Neither sweet nor wild. It had no rules, whys or wherefores. It was pure passion and he let it flow over him like a starving man in a rain shower. It wasn’t what he needed, but it was a gift that would let him live for another day. He moaned her name into her open mouth and groaned as she pulled back.

She sat on her heels and smirked down at him as she twirled the set of keys from their tassel. He realized then that she’d managed to unlock his left wrist during the kiss. With a chuckle she moved to slide off the bed.

“I can handle spice,” she proclaimed. She was so self-satisfied; Logan wasn’t surprised to see his free arm reach for her retreating form of its own accord. A quick tug around her waist sent her sprawling across him again and he knew, from the way her body stiffened, the second she realized there was no longer a blanket between them.

“Prove it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Logan.” She pressed up from the bed, awkwardly trying to remove herself without damaging the likelihood of future little Echollses. It was touching really and he smiled as his hand cupped her bottom and squeezed.

“Logan!”

“Prove it.”

“I just did!” Her exasperated confusion rang off the walls of his bedroom. He pulled onto her side, his body separating her from the door and turned to face her, ignoring the dull ache this position caused in his right shoulder. He looked patiently into her eyes and spoke in a slow, plodding tone that caused her jaw to tighten again.

“That was nothing. That was preamble. Warm-up. Test patterns.” He played at smoothing the hair at the side of her face and dislodged one side from its clips in the process. _Gee, oops_. “That was… appetizer.”

“And you’re ready to feast, I suppose.” She sneered and purposefully rubbed her hips against his.

He grinned and rubbed back, pressing his naked thigh between her legs so that she gasped.

“Now you’re getting it.”

“Forget it, Logan. You’re not going to psych me into sleeping with you. I don’t have anything to prove.”

He found it interesting that she wasn’t moving away from his thigh. He maintained the slight friction and carefully encircled her head with his free hand, running his fingers through her hair and dislodging the other set of clips while he balanced carefully and maintained eye contact while trying not to rip his other arm from its socket. It figured that it would take a contortionist to seduce Veronica Mars.

“I don’t remember saying anything about sleeping.”

He pulled her head closer and she didn’t resist as his lips met hers. He kept the pressure light. This kiss was a co-mingling of breaths, sweet puffs of air on moist skin and gentle sweeps of the tongue along the corners of her mouth, the fullness of her bottom lip. His hand cradled, caressed, then fell away and still she remained against him as he tasted her sweetness. A final press as he drew away and he was able to watch her eyelids flutter open again to reveal passion-glazed blue. Her upper leg was now firmly locked around his thigh.

“We’ll call that Sweet Almond.”

He attempted to guide her onto her back but she pressed against him instead. He fell onto his back among the pillows and watched as she straddled his abdomen and looked down at him sadly.

“You could take me through the whole spice rack, Logan. It wouldn’t change anything.”

She gathered his hand from where it rested on her upper thigh and examined his wrist. There was nothing there. The cuffs were padded and he’s only been in them for a matter of minutes. Yet Veronica was tracing the curve of his palm, the thin blue veins under the translucent flesh of his inner wrist, as if the cuffs _had_ left a mark, indefinite but distinct upon his skin. He drew breath to speak but she cut him off, even as she began to rub her thumb along his pulse point.

“Do you know what gives some spices their taste? Not the sweet or sour ones. The hot ones. The damn _spicy_ ones?” She met his gaze again and cradled his hand to her chest. Her eyes had a suspicious gleam to them and he could do nothing but let his head lull from side to side in a slow-motioned admission of ignorance.

“Pain.”

“Ginger, horseradish, pepper: They excite the pain receptors in your mouth, the ones that are wrapped around your taste buds. They inflame them. The more they burn, the hotter the spice. The more you feel. The more you taste. Pain.” She placed her hands on either side of his head and leaned over him. Liquid grief and hurt glimmered at the corner of her eyes but she would not shed it. She glared at him and he knew she blamed him for no small measure of that grief and hurt. But maybe this was bigger than the two of them.

“It should have been me. I should have gone over the cliff. I should have died.” Before he could protest, she hurried on, letting the words fall from her mouth in a careless rush, “But I don’t _want_ to die. I’m _glad_ I survived. I would do anything to live. And now?” She leaned back, and grabbed his hand. Her fingers traced patterns – words? - over his palm as he watched in silence.

“There’s too much pain in my life, Logan. Too much _spice_. Why can’t it go back to the way it was? The sweetness?”

With a sigh, Veronica grabbed the keys from the rumpled bed sheets and released his other arm. She climbed off his chest and slid towards the end of the bed when his voice arrested her with one word.

“Selfish,” he proclaimed.

**}ooo{**

“What did you call me?” Veronica couldn’t believe her ears, and she turned to face Logan as he sat up and watched her with all seriousness.

“That’s a fucking selfish thing to say, Veronica. It’s flawed. You want things to go back to the perfect way it was before? What way? The way it was when Lilly was fucking my father six ways from Sunday? The way it was when your dad was picking up your mom from some dive, reeking of booze? When Duncan was walking past you in the hall without a word? When your grandparents died? Life _is_ pain, Mars. The trick is to learn to enjoy it.”

Veronica blinked and she knew a tear had finally rolled over her eyelid, onto her check. She knew not because she felt it on her numbed skin, but because she could see Logan’s eyes following its path as it snaked down the trembling side of her cheek. He was on his knees now, in the middle of the bed, unabashed in his nakedness. And it’s not like he had anything to be ashamed of. She felt a ghost of a smile flicker across her lips just as the moistness of her single tear reached them.

Logan pulled her to her knees, made her face him. And she watched as he moved with languid precision, bringing his mouth to hers. He kissed away the tear. His dark eyes held her gaze as he pushed her jacket off her shoulder, down her arms. His large hands reached her waist and skimmed underneath her shirt and she shivered slightly at the feel of his rough knuckles on the soft skin of her belly. His hands rotated and he held her waist in his hands, thumbs touching each other a scant inch below her belly button, fingers splayed across the curve of her hip. He caressed upwards, raising her shirt like a curtain and baring her flesh to the morning air. He paused when he reached the underside of her bra. His hands moved again and his thumbs brushed lightly over the top of the satin and lace, outlining the hardening buds of her nipples. She hissed and raised her arms as he swept the shirt over her head in one grand movement. Before he could move to do so, Veronica’s hands found the front clasp of her bra and that too fell away.

She moved into him, wanting to feel his arms around her, feel the heat of his skin and the delicate rasp of his fine chest hairs along her front, but Logan had other plans and he laid her gently on the bed. She was confused until he gathered her hands in his and then she tried to pull away, tried to sit up.

“No, Logan. Not that. I don’t want-.”

“Veronica, do you trust me?”

She saw the pain in his eyes at her silence. She always caused him such pain.

“Well,” Logan’s glib tone had a rough edge of hurt, and she couldn’t stand it any longer. She broke her hands free from his hold and placed first one and then the other on the open hoops dangling from the bed posts. She looked straight into his eyes and nodded.

“Yes. I trust you.” 

_With this, I’ll trust you_.

*CLICK*

*CLICK*

Logan towered above her, the expanse of his chest and shoulders filling her field of vision as his muscles worked to hold him high. He was in control now. He could do whatever he wanted to her. And, as she looked into his warm brown eyes, as she saw the depth of emotion in them, read in them how much her gesture of trust must mean to him, she realized that she had never seen him more vulnerable.

She closed her eyes and so she only felt the slight pressure, the faint brush of hair as Logan touched his forehead to hers. Then it was gone. A second later, a wet heat was enveloping her breast and she arched from the bed. Her eyes flew open and she saw him. He was bent over her, his dark head moving with careful precision on her breast, his strong arms bent at either side, framing her body with their muscular perfection, and beyond that, was the graceful incline of his back, the arch of his spine, the curve of his ass …

Veronica closed her eyes and pressed her legs together.

His hands left the bed and cupped her sides as his mouth moved to her other nipple. His teeth came into play as he toyed with it. His hands drifted lower and his thigh moved between her own and she pulled against the cuffs, dug her fingernails into her palms and fluttered her eyelids as the small pain helped her focus on something besides what Logan was doing to her.

The vision her fluttering eyelids afforded her was like an old movie. Sepia toned through her golden lashes, with only one or two frames per second. Logan unbuckling her belt. Logan’s head between her breast as he moves down her body. Logan’s shoulder muscles bunching as he bends over her waist. The glint of one dark eye before he descends. _Oh God, the skill of the man_.

She doesn’t know what she is saying at this point. Words have lost meaning. As long as the sounds make him continue, they are good. When he stops she groans. She babbles. He continues and she sighs and maybe she says “Thank you” and maybe she says “Fuck you” but she’s so close now and he’s not stopping and who fucking cares. She opens her eyes wide when the world shatters. Goodbye to sepia, and hello to blinding white and sunshine and Logan’s face grinning up at her.

Veronica smiles back, then frowns when she sees a red tassel in his hand.

“No,” her voice breaks, but he stops fitting the key into the first cuff. He looks at her as if unsure she has said a word.

“We- we aren’t done yet.” Her eyes fix on his erection, and, at first, she blushes. But he is unashamed and it is beautiful and when she raises her eyes to meet his again her high color is not from embarrassment.

Logan is stunned. His mouth is hanging slightly open and he blinks a few times. His left eye twitches more than the right. This amuses Veronica to no end. Then he grins again, and twists the key. The handcuff falls away and he moves to free the second hand with a brief kiss for her cheek along the way.

A hundred questions well on Veronica’s tongue and, before one can gain dominance, Logan has pulled her upwards into his arms and he is smiling down at her.

“No,” he agrees. “We aren’t done yet. Not by a long shot. But I think we can manage without the props.” He holds up the red tassel, lets the threads trickle down the curve of her shoulder and then raises a questioning brow.

She nods, and lays her cheek to his chest.

She giggles as he tosses the tassel over his shoulder and clear across the room.

And they both laugh as they fall back onto the pillows, four free hands and two free hearts seeking enjoyment and finding it, finally, in more than pain.

**Author's Note:**

> ... and I think this is actually the last of my fics which I need to move over from LiveJournal. I have one chapter of a WIP that I doubt will be ever finished. Not sure if I should move that over.
> 
> I will be posting more Arrow stories as life and work allow.


End file.
